


Festival Night. (X Drake x Reader)

by crapitskizaru



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, Supernatural Elements, Zombies, insp by fablehaven, spooky stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 00:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crapitskizaru/pseuds/crapitskizaru
Summary: You struggle to stay sane in the small cottage, surrounded by monsters that are finally set free during that one night in the year. Your only hope is the guardian by your side.





	Festival Night. (X Drake x Reader)

Of all the things thirsting to kill just outside the window, it’s the silence that breaks you. 

The earplugs are working too well, turning the supposedly desired hush into a ringing torture, taking away your usual perception - combined with the complete darkness of the room, it feels as if you’ve already been captured by a demon and locked in the dungeon to rot. 

If the defences of the cottage fail, there will be no fighting. They will just come for you as you lay helplessly on the bed with no chance to protect yourself. You won’t see them, you won’t hear them, you won’t even get to touch them until it’s too late. 

Your eyes are shut when a sudden wave of vibration resonates through the entire cabin; the walls tremble with such force, it’s odd they still haven’t crumbled to dust. Grasping the edge of the bed, you try to empty your mind of all thoughts, but it’s all in vain - even seconds start to feel like centuries. 

A scream is building up in your throat; you would let go of safety measures and just scream into the night, cleansing, like a release. But you can’t, not when it’s not only you that requires the thin amount of protection the walls of the cottage give out. 

_He_ is still beside you, laying face to face. His eyes aren’t closed anymore either - wary gaze constantly sweeping the darkened room even though he swore just mere hours ago that no monster could get past the securities. To calm your racing heart, you shift your focus towards the man, your protector. 

The pitch darkness hasn’t subsided, so you can only rely on your fingers reaching out and grazing along his face. His soft mouth, refined nose, the familiar scar on his chin. You can’t help but lean in to caress his lips for no other purpose than to make yourself forget about the horrids of the night for a fleeting while. He responds, thankfully, you can feel his arm on your waist. 

Suddenly, you are able to see again - a flash of white fills the room through a narrow gap in the curtains, signaling the beginning of a thunderstorm. That was all the convincing you need as you remove your earplugs in one movement.

It all hits you at once; the whistling of the wind, loud tapping of rain against the window, the constant creaking of bed under your fidgeting kicks. And the howling, the unnatural, creepy howling and wailing of ghosts that start to cover every other sound. 

“What are you doing?” he unexpectedly whispers into your ear and causes your heart to beat even quicker. “Put them back.” 

In another flash of lightning, you see his face - troubled but determined. Short puffs of breath land on your neck, the racing pace of his heartbeat blatant under you palm as he pulls you even closer. Your protector, your guardian. 

“I missed your voice,” you murmur back and press your hand to his cheek. His presence alone should be putting you at ease, whereas it’s beginning to turn into an opposite; if the cottage fails, the creatures will seize him first. You could almost see the disturbingly clear image in your mind - as he jumps in front to protect you and fight off the beasts, eventually yielding to their force, his soul at utter mercy of the wraiths. 

Unacceptable, you think, pushing your lips into a line. He needs to survive this night. Whatever it takes, whichever spells you would need to conjure, he will survive. 

“It will be alright.” He rests his chin on the top of your head. “We just have to stay inside, we will be alright.” 

Cold, hard steel digs against your skin, the courtesy of a belt, full of daggers, swung across his chest. You let your memories flow towards the events of the evening before, praying it will take away at least a little bit of anxious thoughts clouding your brain. 

He insisted on staying at his cottage - all the other possible shelters were disregarded as too risky, too far, too vulnerable. And so he ended up gathering as many pieces of fine weapons as he could carry and as much of useful powders as were known to him at that time. 

It would explain the bags of enchanted dust pilling up in all four corners. A trail of salt around your bed, jars filled with fairy magic on the windowsill. Protective signs drawn in chalk on the front door and underneath the windows, swords and axes laying around and, finally, the pointy gear strapped to his body. 

With those precautions in mind and the overwhelming sense of safety his embrace provides, you are able to take a deeper breath, the sound of your exhale completely muffled by eerie drumming and a series of rapid explosions reaching your ears from the outside. 

And then, as if from a snap of someone’s fingers, it all stops - silence takes over the whole world. You begin to tremble in his arms. 

“Why is it so quiet?” Your whisper is on the verge of hearing and it still seems too loud, ringing throughout the sudden stillness. 

“It’s never quiet out there. They just decided we won’t be able to hear them at this moment.” 

His fingers latch into your side, keeping you in place. He must have guessed, from the constant shakes of your body and the tension in the air, you wanted nothing more than to spring to your feet and push the curtain aside, to see for yourself all those nightmares roaming around the area. 

The silence is unbearable. Your mind sending you more and more images of demons, now surrounding the cottage and just waiting to raze it to the ground. Zombies and undead wraiths, lurking behind the windows. 

You had to know. He pulled you back but you wriggled out of his grip and leaped towards the curtain. It was _too _quiet, where was the howling, the crying and weeping? The explosions? 

“Go back to bed,” he ordered as soon as he took ahold of you near the window. His voice cold and strict beside your ear. “Right now-” 

Reason escaped both of you entirely when your fingers pushed the material away from the glass, revealing what waited outside the thin surface. 

The dark veil of the night starts to feel like a blessing, letting your eyes avoid the whole scene. But it’s still too much to take in - the supposedly dark sky covered by ghostly silhouettes of phantoms and the ground infested with hordes of the undead; their macabre bodies resembling those of humans, if it wasn’t for the murky liquids gushing out of their gravely wounds and the slow, creeping movements as they scraped the wooden walls of your shelter. 

The screeching of their nails almost makes your heart stop beating. They are so close - you can just open the window and they will flood the entire room in seconds. But the sheer panic in your gut is started by silence; still continuing silence of the zombies and ghosts. 

“Close the curtain,” your guardian rasps but you don’t listen. His arms are hugging your waist, as if glued. You doubt he can move at all, too disturbed by the sight. 

Your eyes adjust to the darkness. Suddenly, there is a burst of crying, but not the other-wordly kind. It’s the normal, human crying of a child. And then you spot it, just a few steps away - its tiny form wandering around the gruesome undead, ignored, her blond hair dirty and clothes torn, her body visibly shaking from the cold, relentlessly pouring rain. 

A gasp is all you can produce before _he _covers your mouth. Just then you notice your hand halfway to the window’s latch - your mind fogged with fear for the little girl. The zombies will get her, eventually. You can’t just ignore it.

The steel grip around your frame drags you backwards, towards the bed. His whole body pins you down as he pleads into your ear. “Close your eyes. Put your earplugs back on and stay here. Stay here with me.” 

It takes all of your willpower not to fight him. There is no child outside the window, there is no innocent creature out there. Your arms fly to wrap around his neck as you bury yourself closer; his weight pushing the air out of your lungs but at least it allows you to focus on anything other than going back to the window. 

The image of the bloodied, wounded undead grazing their horribly bent limbs against the walls fill your imagination - walls that surround you right now, walls so thin you could hear every moan and every step of the monsters outside. 

You close your eyes shut and focus on how rapid exhales of your protector send shivers down your spine. You are safe, with him. 

The night continues, filled with long howls and the scraping of the nails against the wooden planks. 


End file.
